


Any Other Way

by OctoberSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:49:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4875760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSkies/pseuds/OctoberSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the explosion at the Conclave, Varlen Lavellan is caught by Inquisition agents and kept for questioning in Haven. Refusing to talk, but desperate to escape and search for his missing sister, Riven, Varlen grows increasingly more agitated in captivity. However, he is about to learn a few things about what has been going on outside, and who exactly this "Herald of Andraste" is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Other Way

_We do have a suspect, Herald, found fleeing the explosion. He is being held in the prison for questioning, but it has been over a week and he still refuses to answer our questions. His markings suggest he is Dalish, although we have not been able to determine his clan. He is… remarkably stubborn, and agitated at the best of times. Perhaps he will be more willing to speak to a fellow elf?_

_* ***** *_

The sound of the door thudding open startled Varlen from his broken sleep, the metallic sliding of the bolt grating throughout the cold room like a broken chord. He was on his feet in an instant, retreating towards the far wall of the cell and placing his back to it almost instinctually. _More questions, then?_ How much longer were they planning on keeping him there? And more importantly, how much longer would he be able to get away with not answering any of their demands. That woman; the one with red hair… she did not strike him as someone predisposed to to patience. Or mercy. He needed to get out of there, and fast, before they decided he was more trouble than he was worth.

Eyes, pale as the winter sky, flicked rapidly around the small cell, taking in the bleak grey walls and iron bars, unease mounting in the pit of his stomach. It was better when he was sleeping, however pitiable and interrupted his attempts may be. He could forget, just for a moment, that horrifying feeling that his stone cage was shrinking around him. Stifling. Suffocating.

But _awake_?

Varlen’s heart hammered wildly in his chest, as though it too was seeking an escape from its corporeal cage. Footsteps – multiple pairs - rang dully from somewhere down the corridor, but even if he had pressed himself to the bars, he would not have been able to see far enough to determine who was coming. So, he maintained his position, shoulder’s stiff, his palms pressed flat to the wall behind him as though he could draw on the innate strength of the stone. They were probably soldiers, silent and glaring, coming to throw food at his feet and march back out, their minds already set on his guilt. It hardly mattered; he would barely touch whatever scraps he was given anyway. Funny, how being imprisoned and interrogated really seemed to dampen the appetite.

Voices now - soft, _whispering_ \- conspiring with gentle breath in the dark. Like hunters sneaking up on a halla that was already wary of their presence. Whose ears were pricked and whose hooves champed against the cold earth. That was how Varlen felt – tired and afraid – but he was damned if he was going to let them know it. The voices drew closer, and indistinct words slowly began to take shape.

_“… tried everything short of exerting  physical force. Sister Leliana is growing impatient. I pray you can reach him, Herald, for his sake.”_

Herald? _The Herald of Andraste_? That was one of the few pieces of information Varlen had managed to goad out of the soldiers who came to question him. They’d let it slip after he asked for the hundredth time what had happened – _demanded_ to know what was going on out there. He needed to know. He needed to find out just how bad it was. His sister was still out there, somewhere. He had to cling to the belief that she was still alive. That she had made it out. But… she had been right in amongst it. She went ahead - left him behind to keep watch. Deep down, his heart ached. It _knew_. But his head refused to believe. It replayed the same thoughts over and over like a mantra. _It’s Riven. She’s strong. She’s resourceful. If anyone could survive that mess, it would be her. She’s out there, somewhere._ She has to be.

_"Does he have a name?”_

_“He won’t tell us, ma’am. Just gets this look on his face, like an animal, and won’t say.”_

_That voice_. Varlen shook his head, barely believing his traitorous ears. The room was starting to blur, but he forced himself to calm down. _That… could it…? No… it was the ‘Herald’. Not..._

… A figure, whose features were muted in the dim light, suddenly strode into view, footsteps sure, back straight. A person on a mission. Varlen swallowed the choking lump in his throat, squinting to try and get a better look from his position pressed against the back wall of the cell. But he did not have to make the first remark – did not have to gain the courage to speak to the Herald of Andraste herself. She did it for him, and when she did, he felt his knees go weak with sheer, overwhelming disbelief.

“… Creators - _Varlen_? I… Is that…” she stepped closer, her hands wrapping tightly around the bars, leaning in as though she could pass through them if she willed it to be so. A weak smile, born from sheer relief, spread across Varlen’s face as he saw her familiar silver hair reflect the torchlight, and recognised the tell-tale squaring of her shoulders as she struggled to secure a place somewhere between joy and fury.

“Riv… you’re… _fenedhis_ , you… you are a sight for sore eyes.” His words escaped breathlessly with a trembling laugh as he struggled to suspend his disbelief. It… was _actually_ her. He wasn’t dreaming, or hallucinating. She was _there_. And she was alive.

She was _alive_.

All of a sudden, he felt his legs go weak, and he let himself sink to the ground - something he otherwise would have never done in the presence of the guards, no matter how exhausted he might have been. A weakness he never would have shown. But appearances be damned – his sister had found him.

_Of course she had_.

“Open this cell. _Now_.” As sudden as her arrival, Riven’s voice had shifted tone. The watery breathlessness of her relief hardened like ice, and she turned sharply to the accompanying guards, who instantly stiffened in wariness. Varlen, for his part, remained on the floor, back to the wall, slumped in a mixture of exhaustion and solace, but his eyes never left Riven. He watched her every move like a hawk, fearing that if he glanced away for even a moment, she would disappear, and he would be alone again. Left to curse in the dark.

“Herald, we’re under strict orders from Sister Leliana not to—”

“— Do _not_ make me ask you again.” The words were delivered in a low hiss, dangerous and laced with a rage that chilled the air it touched. Varlen had not seen his sister like this since…

… He forced himself to his feet, moving towards the bars on unsteady legs that were more inclined to drag than step. This could be bad. _Very_ bad. He had to do something.

“Riv, hey, it’s _alright_. You’re _alive_ ; that’s what matters.” He knew his words weren’t overly convincing, but deep down he meant them. Well, mostly the second part, but if it meant stopping his sister from getting herself into trouble with these people, he’d be willing to consider the first too. He would be alright. For her, he’d _make_ himself be alright.

“ _Nothing_ about this is alright, Varlen.” He knew she wanted to offer comfort; to reassure him that, as always, she had everything under control. But right then, control was slipping away fast – he could see it in the trembling of her clenched fists. In the tightness of her brow as she mentally fell back on her training as First, forcing her emotions into submission. In the subtle fear that hung in the air as she realised she might not be able to. Words dripped from her tongue like poison.

“Give me the key.”

“We cannot, Herald.”

“Give it to me or so help me I will _break the lock off this cage myself_.”

“ _Riven_ ,” Varlen’s concern was growing swiftly as his gaze flicked between his sister and the guards, whose hands had moved readily to the hilts of their blades, “it’s okay. Just try to—”

“— Varlen, I thought you were _dead_.” Of all the responses he had expected, that one, and the utter flatness of its delivery, was not one of them. “I _asked_ them. Asked soldiers and spies and workers. None of them had seen anyone who looked like you. And now…” she turned, and Varlen saw the cracks in her mask, the fractures spreading as her voice caught slightly in her throat. But then, she swallowed, and raised that stubborn chin of hers, jaw clenched obstinately.

“But you… you were here the whole time. _In prison_. And _no one_ said anything. _Not one damn word_.” Her focus shifted from Varlen back towards the guards. Slow. Calculating. Cold.

This was bad.

“Give. Me. The. Key!” She all but shouted the final word, her voice echoing furiously throughout the room, shaking the very walls with the force of its delivery.

Suddenly, a dazzling green light flared violently from her left hand, bright and burning and sudden, like a traitorous slip of the tongue. Startled, Varlen flinched back, the intensity of it blinding his eyes, which had grown so used to the darkness. He turned his head with a cry, his hand flying up to shield them out of reflex from the bright burst. When he attempted to open them, he was almost instantly forced to slam them shut again when another crack of green energy lanced through the air from Riven’s palm, like the errant bolt from an unnatural storm. Suddenly, her hand seemed to come alive, setting the room ablaze in brief yet blinding flashes as she rounded on the guards, teeth clenched and breathing heavily, her own magic beginning to bleed into the air to join in the volatile dance.

Varlen's heart hammered in his chest as he blinked fast, eyes stinging, forced to keep his gaze fixed towards the ground. Unable to look directly at his sister, who stood mere feet away. That was not her magic; he might not be a mage, but he knew _her_. It felt _wrong_. It was angry and piercing, shrieking from her skin, while hers was stoic and strong, as protective as it was dangerous.

He couldn’t watch her – couldn’t let her put herself at risk for him. Not after they had only just found each other again. He couldn’t bear to see her lose control; not after she had worked so hard for all those years. Couldn’t handle that it was because of _him_. He did not think. He did not _care_. He hurled himself towards the bars, reaching through, and his hand found her wrist, seizing it desperately, drawing it back towards him, mark and all.

“Riven– please, _venavis_!” _Stop!_

It was as though his frantic words struck a chord in his sister. He gripped her wrist as it flared and cracked perilously, uncaring of the blazing green light and how it seared so close to his skin. But then, before his very eyes, the strange magic began to fade. Lessen, like how the tide retreats from the shore, returning to the embrace of the sea. What began as a flurry of explosive sparks faded to a soft glow, before vanishing entirely within the confines of her palm. Safe. _Silent_. He could have released her. But he didn’t.

He could hear her breathing, hard and fast, but steadying with each furious inhalation. She shook in his grip – or perhaps it was _him_ shaking. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was…

… Nothing. Shit, right then, he knew _nothing_.

“Is there a problem, Herald?”

_That voice_. Varlen released his sister instantly and scrabbled back from the cell door, his expression shifting from concern to teeth baring apprehension as the red-headed woman slipped into the room, haughty and silent in stride. None of them had even heard her enter. Although, he supposed they had been a touch… _distracted_.

“Listen, there’s been—” Varlen began, fearing Riven was not in a particularly good place to deal with the cloaked woman, but before he even managed to finish his sentence, the imperious figure was sharply cutting him off.

“— I see, so _now_ you are willing to talk?” Her gaze was piercing and cold, like a bird of prey returned from the grave. “I gave you your chance. I was addressing _the_ _Herald_.”

Varlen wanted to respond scathingly – in any other situation, to any other person, he likely would have. But there was something about her. Something that shook him on a visceral level. She was danger incarnate, walking amongst them like it was nothing. Even _he_ knew not to push his luck.

“Release my brother _now_ , Leliana, or we are going to have a serious problem.” Riven had mastered herself once again, reigning in the tempest and replacing it with her usual icy calm. But like a woodland river, she was only serene to the outward eye. Beneath the surface, the current flowed swift and wild, ready to ensnare and destroy anyone foolish enough to challenge it. If he was honest, Varlen wasn’t sure who he would rather fight, if forced to choose. So, he did the only logical thing. He kept his distance – gave them both a respectful amount of space, retreating further into his cell. It was obvious his input was not desired by the red-headed woman anyway.

 For her part, the woman he now knew to be Leliana blinked in mild surprise, sharp eyebrows rising ever so slightly as she quickly glanced from Riven, to Varlen, and back again.

“Your _brother_?” She repeated the word as though it was foreign, and Riven nodded curtly in reply. “I… _see_. It appears I owe you an apology, Herald, for this unfortunate misunderstanding.” Leliana gave a single signal – barely a flick of her wrist – and one of the guards broke away, reaching to his belt and hastily unhooking a ring of keys. As he approached the door, Varlen watched him warily, angling himself away on instinct, ready to defend himself if required. He had no idea what they wanted with Riven, or what was going on with that… that _thing_ on her hand. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. _That much_ he knew.

But the guard made no attempt at confrontation. He simply slipped the key into the lock, and the next thing Varlen knew, his cage had been opened. Varlen watched for a moment, and felt his traitorous gaze lift to meet that of _Leliana_. He had never seen such a cold stare. But, she nodded her head slightly, silently granting permission for him to leave.

Trembling faintly but doing his best to conceal it, Varlen walked to the now open door and stepped through, stopping just outside his cell, finding himself unable to continue. He was… _free_. Just like that. All it took was one word from Riven, and the hell he’d been living in for the past days – _weeks_? – was over. Nothing he'd said had mattered, and damn it he’d tried – _begged_ for them to let him go. But _she_ …

… A touch on his arm, gentle and reassuring. Varlen swallowed as he lowered his eyes to meet his sister’s, big and blue and swimming with…

… wait, _green_? Why… why were they green?

“Riv… Your eyes...” He knew how ridiculous it sounded, but the sad smile he received in response saw him cast aside any self-consciousness.

“I know, _ma’lin_.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she maintained her composure, simply content that they were no longer separated by cold iron bars. “They’re… not quite like ma’s anymore, are they?”

For just a split second, she suddenly seemed so small, the slightest of flinches wracking her being that anyone who didn’t know her like Varlen did would have missed. He needed no further prompting – he turned and drew her into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pressing her to his chest almost too tight. No, they weren’t like mother’s anymore. It didn’t matter. _They were still hers._

“I… have a lot to tell you.” She mumbled from somewhere in his bear-hug, but he shook his head, a tight yet playful smile touching his lips.

“Oh I’m sure you do, Riv. Just… give me a minute, okay? I’ve got to make sure my ‘little big sister’ is actually real, and not just a figment of my imagination.”

“ _Hm_? Oh…! Alright then _come here_.” Her tone was apologetic, and Varlen felt her shoulders shake as she chuckled quietly, wrapping her arms around him and indulging him for another minute as he established her existence in the physical world. Finally satisfied, Varlen released her, placing his hands on her shoulders and stepping back. He cast an appraising eye over her swiftly, taking in her hair, her vallaslin, her posture. Her hand. She appeared fine, all things considered. Well, aside from that _one_ pretty obvious thing.

“So… _Herald of Andraste,_ huh? That’s... _new_.” He cleared his throat, taking his hands off Riven’s shoulders and glancing over at Leliana and the guards, who had simply stood in awkward silence the whole time the two elves had been having their reunion, “I don’t suppose your new position could get me something to eat somewhere a little warmer and less depressing than here? I’m _starving_.”

“ _Typical_ – always thinking with your stomach!” She raised her eyebrow at him and crossed her arms, but there was a lightness to her that betrayed her true feelings. “Of course you want food, you always do.”

It had only been a week or so, Varlen wagered, but already he had missed their drawling repartee. They drove each other insane, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“… Of course it can be arranged. I will see to it personally. ” Leliana took it upon herself to respond to Varlen’s request and stepped aside. She extended her arm, guiding the pair into the corridor. “Now, you are free to go. I am sure you have much to discuss.”

Riven and Varlen exchanged a quick glance, before walking together out of the cold, dark prison, the Herald first, and her brother close behind her. Varlen felt his eyes drawn to her hand, quiet and unassuming at her side.

_Yes… they had much to discuss indeed_.

“… You don’t think that Leliana lady is going to try and poison me, do you?” Varlen whispered as they ascended the narrow stairs that led to the main chamber. A smirk played across Riven’s lips.

“Only if you’re _particularly_ annoying, _ma’lin_.” She replied, before casting a quick glance over her shoulder in his direction, her gaze warm. “It is good to have you back.”

“Yeah, yeah… stop it before you make me cry, Riv.” He drawled the sentence like a bad joke, but in all seriousness he could feel his eyes starting to sting. That was just what he needed – to emerge sobbing into the Keep at the Herald’s heel.

“Barely five minutes, and you’d already embarrass me?” She feigned disapproval as she opened the final door, and Varlen chuckled quietly behind her.

“Would you have it any other way?”

**Author's Note:**

> Note: ma'lin = "my blood". It's how they've always referred to one another (but is more commonly used by Riven).


End file.
